


ɴᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴇʀᴄᴇɪᴠᴇ sᴄʜʀÖᴅɪɴɢᴇʀ's ᴛʀᴇᴇ [ʜʟᴠʀᴀɪ]

by Wabbajackle



Series: Wabbajackle's Writing Grind Series [1]
Category: HLVRAI - Fandom, Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware, Half-Life, Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Aperture science is relevant to the plot and will be later in the book, Bad Decisions, Bad Jokes, Bad Puns, Bad Writing, But aso very sweet and I hope worth your time, Crack Fic, Dark Comedy, Documenting the learning process, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Crack, Gender Neutral, I swear I'm not trying to scare you away, Is this a pOLIGAMY?, Nearly Gossip Girl level drama at points, Open to Interpretation, Platonic Relationships, Real world soda corperations, Red Herrings, Romantic Fluff, Slow Burn, Soda consumption, That's not a sales pitch I swear--, There might be actual poligamy and stuff here I hope you don't mind, Tropes, Trying to be a better writer, WhO wiLL bE tHe FiNaL wiNNinG CouPle? ReAd tO fiNd OuT, Writing grind let's go frequent updates large fic!, feedback appreciated!, passport
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:13:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26462467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wabbajackle/pseuds/Wabbajackle
Summary: [Temporary description] There's only one and a half men in this book, the dog is one of them. Get ready to be antagonized by a bunch of idiodic geniuses, hopefully you'll all come out better for it.Originally "SW33T M3SA- THE BIG BEN(G)[Gift Fic turned book?]"This is a writing grind book, meaning it updates often [sometimes every day] and needs a lot of [gamer] fuel to keep from burnout. However, with enough interest, this may also be the first in a series of writing grind books!Word count timeline:Week 1 [09/18/2020 - 09/25/2020]: 15,556Week 2 [09/25/2020 - 10/02/2020]: 19,463 (rough week)Week 3 [10/02/2020 - 10/09/2020]: INTERMISSIONINTERMISSION currently-- I just cannot complete a writing grind right now, pease forgive me. Life is.. hectic, to say the least..69th fic in the quote prompt memes collection as listed below (ayy)
Relationships: All & Reader, Benrey (Half-Life)/Reader, Benrey/Gordon Freeman, Bubby/Dr. Coomer (Half-Life), Dr. Coomer (Half-Life)/Reader, Gordon Freeman/Reader, The G-Man/Reader, Tommy Coolatta/Reader, Various/Reader
Series: Wabbajackle's Writing Grind Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935784
Comments: 31
Kudos: 69
Collections: Quote Prompt Memes





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FoffleSnave](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoffleSnave/gifts), [AnotherSmartFangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherSmartFangirl/gifts), [mapleshmaple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mapleshmaple/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [quoteonlyprompts](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/quoteonlyprompts) collection. 



> So I got this idea from FoffelSnave's Doki Doki Literature Club AU book, thank you FoffelSnave! (<\--- is a much better writer than me if you're interested!) 
> 
> Edit:
> 
> Thank you AnotherSmartFangirl for being my first comment (aside from FoffelSnave, I really appreciate it!)
> 
> Edit edit:
> 
> You, mapleshmaple, are going to get this book and there is no way you can stop me! I will sacrifice all that is left of my sad little life to make this happen, because your attention is like jet fuel or contraband, like slipping me a whole bucket of adderall and coffee. This doesn't mean you're responsible for my poor life choices, don't think that! (I was also joking about the drugs, hehe.) Anyways, back to not taking care of myself because you just made me that more addicted to writing this book!

<https://youtu.be/l8HT7nU7qUs>

* * *

HTTPS://SW33T_M3SA [[ERROR]}

Day three in the simulation, and a pile of bodies had been scattered around the room. Alright, in as much seriousness as could be mustered, the lot of you-- the bonafide science team together in the flesh-- got pretty plastered last night, and your stomach was really feeling it. You tried slapping an arm in the direction of a water bottle because you felt like you were going to barf, but it fell over and that was everyone’s queue to groan in hungover misery.

Gordon, bless his eternally anxious body, had half ragdolled off the break room couch, and Bubby’s head slipped out of his hand and jolted him to life, making him clutch his stomach over half-lifted blue turtleneck. Sunkist lifted his head and looked down at Tommy, who’s head had been using his fluffy stomach as a pillow, and he tried nudging him awake.

And, well, Doctor Coomer’s hand clipped through the plate he was holding, but he was generally sunny and had seemingly been waiting for the four of you-- well, five counting Sunkist-- to get up.

“Good morning Passport!” It seemed no matter how many times you corrected him, your words fell upon deaf ears. Gordon seemed creeped out when you told him what happened when you tried to type in your name and instead it submitted itself as Passport, but to be safe it was probably better to just keep the odd name instead of trying to get them to say it. Gordon agreed, and he’d stopped twitching every time he said the word since he knew it was just a cover and not on purpose, so at least it was an improvement.

“Morning Doctor Coomer.” You sighed, stretching-- the floor where you hadn’t been sleeping was stone cold and definitely uncomfortable. Gordon, shocked awake by well timed physics, kicked your knee as he scrambled to get up and fix his tie which had in current been slapped across his face. A few disgruntled noises later and his back was to the couch cushion, semi-relaxed though he’d still been a little fight-or-flight-y since it was within Gordon’s traumatized nature to be extremely jumpy. Sunkist hadn’t been that far away, so Gordon leaned over and reached to pat his head-- a movement the dog met with a slightly stretched neck as he squinted his eyes endearingly.

“What’s for breakfast today, Doctor Coomer?” You asked over the movement, distracted as the plate shifted and suddenly hovered over to your direction pretty Gary’s Mod-like, which was still going to take some getting used to. “Green eggs and ham.” He said proudly with the little pauses in his voice that were character for him, though you squinted at the jpeg eggs and whole ham wondering if there was anyway they had actually been edible, and if so, how you were supposed to eat them.

Bubby’s head smacked against the table again as you hesitantly picked up the fork, and Coomer walked over to Tommy who’d still been fast asleep on Sunkist’s fur. “Wake up Tommy, it’s time for breakfast!” He said cheerfully with a soda can in his hand, and Tommy muttered a confused “Huh?” before opening his mouth lazily and pointing to it. “Pour it in my mouth so my eyes aren’t- won't be.. blurry.” You grinned a bit, finding him funny in his own way.

“You going to eat that?” Bubby suddenly pointed, as if he’d been awake the whole time. You looked at Gordon who’d been given a first aid kit and had been just as confused as you on what the hell to do with your ‘breakfasts’, and you just slid the plate away. “It’s up for grabs.”

“What’s the matter, not feeling hungry today Gor-” Doctor Coomer paused in the middle of his speech, blinked, and didn’t continue his sentence but waited for a reply. You shrugged. “You should eat your greens.” Bubby butted in, slurping up the jpeg eggs as they sort of just, disappeared into his mouth.

“Right, well, I’m actually in the mood for an orange right now, so I’m just gonna--” You stood up, and Gordon pushed off the foot of the couch with a “Wait, I think I want one too-- So I’m going to- yeah- yup.” Tommy lifted his head in confusion and grogginess while Bubby rolled his eyes muttering “Suck up.”

You pretended not to hear the snarky little comment, but you knew Bubby required a lot of attention and was jealous when it wasn’t on him.

Gordon quickly caught up and joined your side in the wide Black Mesa halls where on occasion you passed a few other scientists and the security. None of them really ever bothered you, except for certain ‘events’ that triggered on occasion, but it seemed that only you and the science team were unprogrammed and acting out of full free will-- well, close to at least.

“Your pen’s about to fall from your pocket.” You pointed to his coat which had a new wrinkle in it, and he quickly looked down to see what you were pointing at though it hadn’t completely registered in his head. “Oh.” He said suddenly, bringing a hand up to readjust it and rub his neck embarrassedly, not that you’d judge him over a slightly askew pen.

If there was anything else you noticed about him, it would be that he was a bit built-- clearly so without the HEV suit-- and yet the extra muscle mass betrayed his anxiousness and made it all the more apparent when he tensed out of nervousness. He also walked a little stiffly, as if a bit bouncy but calculatedly so. He hadn’t gotten that much better around you regardless how much time it’d actually been since you’d first been magically pulled into the simulator against all known laws of reality in your world, but Black Mesa just casually had working portals to different parts of the facility, so you supposed you’d just have to give up everything you knew to be true about life.

“So, aha, about that orange, eh?” He tried to initiate conversation, and yet ended up groaning and pinching his nose. “Mhm.” You mused, eye on his orange tie. “I guess I don’t necessarily need to go get one when I have you right here.” You gave it a flick and he flinched as he looked down.

Instead of voicing his confusion, he fell back and stopped walking for a moment, brows furrowed as his eyes scanned invisible calculations. You paused, waiting for him to catch back up, and as you did he snapped out of his daze and let out an “Oh!” as he realized you were waiting for him.

Black Mesa had an odd layout, so the walk to an employee kitchen which was actually stocked with real food and not just vending machines was a bit of a long one, not that it was that horribly long, though Gordon seemed to be squirming in the silence of just your footsteps echoing asynchronously without any other words spoken. The ceiling lights all seemed to be functional in this version of the facility, and honestly seeing it in person and fully intact was pretty trippy. The hallways were even bigger and wider in person, something a computer monitor couldn’t have conveyed-- not to mention the definition and (for the most part) real world physics and light scattering.

In the time you had alone in the halls like this, you occasionally spoke in hushed whispers-- primarily about your theory that a certain.. someone was watching you and was responsible for your sudden entrance into this entirely different universe. It made Gordon all the more nervous, but so far this morning he hadn’t been over the usual level of anxiousness so you weren’t going to give him any reason to suddenly stress out more.

No, instead you just appreciated the fact that you could actually walk beside him and see what he was doing in real life HD, right down to the pores on his nose and the slight askewness of his fluffy eyebrows. He looked softer and younger than you imagined, not that you ever understood how offputting seeing each of them as actual real life humans would be. Again, you wanted him to see you as confident and put together because it seemed he desperately needed to believe you were that kind of person, so you didn’t say anything about your internal crises, not to any of them.

[You also didn’t want to tell him that it seemed you had been able to do the Black Mesa Sweet Voice as you screamed once at a pigeon that startled you and it imploded out of existence after the deep blue beam of dots hit its body, so you were going to keep your supernatural discoveries about your existence here a secret too. SCIENCE!]

You definitely knew what you were doing.That was unironically becoming truer by the day, as you hadn’t flinched when you pressed the button to open the industrial door --which was much more secure than a kitchen should really need-- and Doctor Coomer greeted the two of you. “Hello Passport, Gordon!” It also seemed he didn’t struggle with it this time.

“Hello to you too Doctor Coomer!” You greeted, sneaking a glance behind him to see if there was a portal in the room or something. You didn’t know how he did it, but you knew he had to have some sort of teleportation device because this universe did abide by SOME rules.

“He didn’t even bring his silly straw...” was said quietly as you went over to rummage through the fridge, and you didn’t question him as you assumed he was referring to Gordon’s inventory again. It seemed the events that happened when you played through the game as Gordon really did happen for them, and at this point you couldn’t deny it did-- you were in the game now, after all. Though Doctor Coomer did say in surprise that ever since you’ve arrived, the world has been expanding-- whatever that means.

“Do you want an orange too Doctor Coomer?” You held one up, and he punched at the air saying “Yes!” before grabbing it out of your hand and putting it into his inventory, which just looked like despawning it while in his grasp. You held another out to Gordon, who hurried over to take it from you as if anxious he’d otherwise take too long.

You had one and decided to pocket a few more since they were small, but a wave of nausea panged in your gut. Having forgotten about your sour stomach, the feeling picked back up when Gordon peeled his and the citrus smell suddenly permeated the air. You’d been near a countertop and leaned over it while pushing the fridge door shut, then went over to the small drink bar sink and twisted the cold water handle. You contemplated splashing your face, but cupping it in your hands seemed to be enough to distract from the disgust for now.

“Sorry, still a little sick.” You offered at the sight of Gordon’s worried look, assuring him that you were fine. He tossed his peel in the garbage can and neatly ate slice by slice, and Coomer caught you watching him. “Let’s not dawdle now--” He interrupted, no doubt subtly trying to shift the focus from Gordon to walking back to the breakroom, but still the two of you lingered and locked eyes for a short awkward moment before following Doctor Coomer out of the room.

Had it been any surprise that Gordon hovered near you when to him you’d been the one thing keeping him alive during what had transpired in what you thought was just a bootleg copy of Half-Life? It seemed the rest of them failed to register fully that you were partly the Gordon they were used to, so they didn’t have that same connection though Doctor Coomer shifted his specifically tutorial-like behavior over to you so he seemed to understand the most out of the rest of them.

But just then, an explosion was heard down the hall, and just like that, red alarm blares went off. The two of them immediately looked to you for guidance, and you raised a finger about to speak. Just another normal day at Black Mesa?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins! Loud noises ought to be avoided during a hangover, no?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “GORDON FREEMAN. YOU ARE WANTED FOR PASSPORT INSPECTION.”

<https://youtu.be/ACQ9wkG5dbE>

* * *

What are you even supposed to do when an explosion goes off down the hall? Obviously the smartest thing to do would probably be go back in the kitchen and hide in it since it seemed sturdy enough as a bomb shelter and it had a bunch of food, but some dumb impulsive part of you that you didn’t have before was actually urging you to go towards the noise to go investigate.

You took a good look at Gordon, and Doctor Coomer. You knew Coomer would be fine, but Gordon? Gordon was looking at you as if you were the last lifeboat on the titanic, and he was in full panic mode. You were in charge here, you just had to go ahead and be a player, didn’t you? The thing is, before there weren’t any real world consequences-- that was the whole point.

By game logic, you go forward.

“You stay behind me, and use anything you can as a weapon.” You point at Gordon, and motion two fingers to Doctor Coomer. “I’ve got your back Passport!” He exclaimed, fists raised as he shifted his weight back and forth, ready to fight. “Right.” You pulled a glock out of the pocket of your lab coat, since its pockets acted as your inventory storage. It was just something that came with the coat the moment you woke up here, along with knowledge you didn’t have before suddenly ingrained in your cognizance and muscle memory.

Full sprint, you made your way back down the hall. Hopefully Bubby and Tommy were okay and safe in the breakroom, though knowing them they were already investigating and waiting to reunite with the three of you. It didn’t take long before the air had been completely thickened by grey smoke, and you flinched, holding a hand out to signal them to stop. It probably wasn’t safe to breathe in, so you lifted the collar of your shirt and secured it over your mouth and nose with your non-dominant hand. Backing up, you still kept your gun pointed forward in case anything alarming jumped out, but it was still advancing and you bumped shoulders with Gordon who had done as told and stayed behind you.

<https://youtu.be/jBBB7rDe05Q>

You heard nothing but a faint scratching sound, and you cocked your gun in its general direction. You jumped when Gordon’s hand fell on your shoulder, making him quickly retract it though just as you went to turn your attention to him, you heard the clicking sound of some four legged creature’s nails scraping the concrete floor tiles. You took your aim, and fired when--  
“Hold on! Don’t shoot-- it’s Sunkist!” Gordon yelled in your ear right as you were about to pull the trigger, and sure enough Sunkist came running out, racing past the three of you and on into the smoke once again. A stray bullet was shot, and it seemed to clack against the wall and roll onto the floor out of sight, the sound ringing in your ears.

“God dammit.” You hissed while lowering your gun, heart pounding so hard it burned along with the smoke forcing itself into your lungs. Regardless, you pointed the gun back up in case the thing that Sunkist was running from had been anywhere around and possibly violent. You pushed away from Gordon, not wanting him to feel you quivering in adrenaline and quite possibly fear, and Coomer turned around to look over at you. “Are you alright, Passport?” No, not really, you’d take a deep breath but the air was burning your eyes and you decided that maybe Sunkist had the right idea.

“We should fall back.” You turned around, desperately wanting to run a hand through your hair and just collapse. The hangover for the last and final time made itself apparent again as a second wave of nausea ran over you-- not that you thought to drink any water beforehand. Not wanting to look pathetic in front of either of them, you mustered up as much confidence as you could and turned away from the direction of the smoke. “Let’s go.” You started to walk, but not before hearing the approach of frantic footsteps. Once again your gun was cocked and aimed, ready to unload on any possible assailants.

…

At this rate you might just have an aneurism and get it all over with. You had yet to die or be injured in this world, but you knew you could feel everything, such as how heavy the concrete floors were to your feet, or the cold lacquer of the coffee end table in your favorite break room, break room seventeen. You could appreciate almost everything but the paisley bandana you’d found draped over the corner of the box TV, something you knew none of them brought in there and it likely didn’t just spawn either. You still had that pocketed too-- oddities like that are too important to let magically disappear.

As if to offer an explanation for the bomb that went off, a voice was heard over the rubble and smoke.

“I burnt my hot pocket.” Bubby hissed, back arched as he came into view and rubbed some of the ash off of his face. Just behind him emerged Tommy, who added “Aa-and the microwave, it- did- it exploded! Yeah..” Uh, really? You wanted to say you weren’t surprised, but you supposed again it’d still take some learning to remember not to leave either of them alone for too long. In fact, each one of them was volatile, even Gordon to some extent, because he could get bad and toss away his morals during a break down intense enough.

Still, he was eating it. You were pretty sure it was riddled with shrapnel, but he still chewed the burnt lump of surprisingly non vaporized hot pocket as if it was nothing unusual.

“What kind of microwave makes an explosion that- egh, I’m not even going to finish that sentence nevermind.” Gordon pinched his nose again, wrinkles under his eyes that disappeared under the hand that was covering his mouth and nose. Yeah, probably a good idea to get out of the fumes, but good on you Gordon for your logical thinking, you sort of needed that right now because any more time in Black Mesa and you were going to lose it. [You were still upset over almost shooting Sunkist. He may have been immortal but you couldn't have that weighing on your conscience.]

“Wait why are you guys wet?” You asked upon further inspection, seeing that it wasn’t just ash caked all over their faces and clothes. “Oh! That was the sprinkler system. Turns out it’s fully operational in breakroom seventeen, OSHA would be proud.” Bubby licked his fingers and you almost cringed at the several layers of ash he just ingested, but you otherwise had nothing to say.

“Alright, somebody’s going to clean this up, and uh--” You waved your hands around, slipping the gun back into your void of a pocket. “How about we all go get cleaned up?” They all looked at each other, but one was preoccupied with scanning over the visible rubble.

“I wasn’t done with my crossword!” Doctor Coomer suddenly realized, somehow recognizing the pile of ash still smoking as the little book he’d been working in as a way of passing time. His hands flew up to his head, as if he were shocked that paper disintegrated after being set on fire in an explosion. You and Gordon both on impulse went to pat his shoulder. Your hand fell back since Gordon was closer, but he gave a little squinted smile as he caught you mirroring him.

“Wow, you guys are like.. The power rangers when they pose!” Tommy jumped and struck a pose, catching you off guard and making you sputter a laugh. Coomer also laughed though it was quieter and sadder than usual, and Bubby looked at Tommy incredulously. “That’s not a power ranger pose, that’s the pose of a beta cuck!” Your head shot up at Bubby, stomach squeezing as you tried not to encourage him bullying Tommy, but it was just so out of nowhere.

“Alright guys, come on.” You waved them towards the showers. The smoke was thinning already, and it’d probably be gone by the time you guys finished up, though it seemed you’d need to find another place to sleep for the night.

[REDACTED. ERROR.]

* * *

Tommy, for some reason beyond you, stuck his clean dry towel into the water streaming from the shower jet, and slapped it onto the wall where it splattered and splashed the rest of you who were just taking off your bloody coats and gathering your spare clothes for the shower. Doctor Coomer had offered to take your dirty clothes to the laundromat room for two play coins, and you nervously accepted, the coins invisibly transferring out of your possession and presumably into Doctor Coomer’s.

“Haha, guys, look!” Tommy pointed at Sunkist who’d been behind his shower stall and completely soaked. You didn’t know when the dog had come in or how he’d managed to do that, but you supposed he needed to wash off too. “Now Tommy, it's rude to expose a man in his smalls!” Bubby had to pipe in, tossing his bloody coat over the wooden locker room bench and unknoting his tie, making you look away in embarrassment as he slowly pulled it off and undid the buttons of his blue shirt.

Using the door of your locker to shield your view from the stripping men, you took off your coat, revealing a gold pocket chain. For some reason you were dressed pretty spiffily underneath, in sensible pinstripe pants and a black halter top vest over a dress shirt and tie. Obviously you wouldn’t dress this way yourself, but your clothing options were completely randomized by day, and always gender ambiguous which was something you could sort of appreciate. [You were also drunk last night, so who knows when you changed into this.]

In your locker however, had sat a set of folded flare cuff black pants and a dark grey turtleneck, set aside a new pair of sneakers. Again, a little embarrassing that the simulation dressed you, but for the most part these clothes were cash money and always brand new, which seemed more than you deserved and were used to. You sort of wondered what it based its pick for the day on though, but thought nothing more of where they came from. Perhaps that was for the better, you were covered in grime and thinking too hard would just make you feel worse, but a hot shower of limitless water sounded absolutely divine right now.

You took the vest off too, unbuttoning it a bit awkwardly, unaware of the eyes that had found their way onto you as the showers continued to run, interrupting any drawn out silence that would have otherwise occurred had they not been turned on with a valv- or, well, turnwheel.

What were you thinking when you put this on? Thank god you had your lab coat to hide it.

Grabbing a rag and a bar of soap, you noticed a small bottle in the back that you didn’t see before. You reached in and pulled it out, turning it around to read the label. “Ambiguous Floral Scent” had been printed in pretty purple cursive, the subscript reading “Body wash, shampoo, and conditioner three-in-one.” Thinking back to your bar of unidentifiable antibacterial scented soap, you figured it might as well be a nice little thing to try.

Without another word, you made your way to one of the stalls, and latched the lock on the door. Inside was a little bench, and then the shower which was secured to the door, but had a hose attached should you choose to use it. You finished taking off your clothes, and hung them over the stall door. Your clean set had sat on the bench, and you set your soap on the little shelf installed into the white tile wall.

Good, while in the shower, you could think about what you were going to do about sleeping arrangements. Perhaps if you could find another one of the break rooms scattered across the facility in random locations, the six of you could sit down to dinner and a movie night, that was if Sunkist decided to stick around, he usually decided to go home for the week and came back Saturday night. Tommy had mentioned something about a day job? You didn’t know how to feel about that, but oh well, it was Sunkist, and Sunkist wasn’t supposed to make sense. He was only supposed to be a good boy.

Sigh. Sounds like another adventure for the science team. Here’s to rediscovering Black Mesa in HD.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing like a nice warm shower after a long day, eh?


	3. Chapter 3

<https://youtu.be/KcFijm0G9Qg>

* * *

Stepping out in fresh clothes, your skin felt finally relieved from several layers of concrete paste, and the grey clumps that possibly stained the shower floor a dull grey could definitely attest to that. The rest of the team had still been in the shower, but Sunkist perched on the long locker room bench, a big white towel draped over his sad deflated fur coat.

Even though he looked so droopy with his fluff smoothed down like that, he still had a big smile on his face as he panted happily.

“You’re too cute.” You sat next to him with a snicker, giving him a generous rubbing down to help him dry faster. You worked your way down his neck and shoulders, his fur fluffing up extra fuzzy where you scrubbed.

After a few moments he pointed his nose to a black ribbon crumpled next to him-- it was a little bow on a thin elastic band. “Oh, you want me to put it on you?” You picked it up, smoothing a thumb over it’s little velvety bow ear. You slipped the collar around his neck and readjusted it so that the bow part sat perfectly on his chest. Stepping back, you brought your fingers and thumbs together to make a rectangle and pretended to look at him from different angles like a photographer.

“Bar!” He barked with a wagging tail. You grinnen and sneaked a quick wink, nodding to yourself. “Bar!” he motioned his nose, his eyes settling on something behind you. Just as you were going to turn, a set of light fingers softly sweeped over your shoulders. “What are you doing?” Two fat droplets of water left the strands of his hair to slide down your cheek to chin. You deadpanned.

“Don’t you know how to dry your hair?” You spun around, hitting him with balled fists lightly over the wrinkly white dress-shirt he’d decided to put on-- the same shirt that was a little see through around the neck because he let his shaggy hair drip all over it.

. Gordon Freeman was many things, but you swore he purposely made himself helpless around you. “At least squeeze out some of the water…” You also lingered for a moment over his beard, which had needed to be trimmed, though some part of you liked it at this fuzzy length. “Well I have a towel,” He offered with a pause, speaking through thin lips which you watched with a little bit of fascination.

You always ogled at each and every one of them, but Gordon mildly appreciated being looked at with such wonder. If anything he hovered around you so much that he constantly worried he was overstepping his bounds and annoying you, but then you’d stare with as much attentiveness as you could offer, fascinated by him, and he felt so important. Not that he wanted to say that out loud.

After a few lazy moments, you redirected the focus of your eyes to his arm which had a towel draped over it pathetically. It was well over damp, and even still he looked as if he hadn’t done anything at all to dry his body, droplets of water still clinging to along his jaw where his hair framed his face.

“Give me that.” You snatched the towel dangling off one of his shoulders and tossed it into his face, making him ‘kek!’ as his arms flared around aimlessly, though you thought for a second and pulled it off his head. “Sit down.” You instructed, pointing next to Sunkist who’d had his patdown just a little earlier.

You spent the next few minutes purposely manhandling Gordon because he’d gotten a little on your nerves, but he spent most of that time fiddling with his fingers and occasionally taking a glance up at you, only to look back down at his lap. Sunkist did his part and snuzzled himself into Gordon’s lap, occasionally licking the air and readjusting his head so it could balance on Gordon’s thigh. You couldn’t help yourself, you redirected a hand to smooth one of his ears for a moment before returning to Gordon’s messy brown hair which was starting to be a little less wet and a lot more frizzy. He might want to run a come through it when you were done.

The next person to come out had been Tommy, who’d stood at your side, holding a towel out expectantly. At least this one was dry and he didn’t smack it against any surfaces so it would splosh on the rest of you unsuspecting victims.

Gordon kept occupied with Sunkist while you towel dried Tommy’s hair much more gently than you did with him while Tommy smiled the whole time, fists comfortably in his lap as he enjoyed the attention he was receiving. You were careful in untangling the few small knots he had where his hair got longer, and let it fall around his face instead of smoothing it back because you loved how his little bangs looked while wet. Finishing up, you gave him a soft pat on the head and turned your attention to Doctor Coomer who’d came back holding your coats which had been washed, dried, and seemingly ironed. You were so grateful you willfully deleted the stress you felt when he’d asked you for play coins, knowing he was.. Interesting… in his approach to a lack of them, or being told no.

“Hold on I want a turn!” Bubby came out of nowhere pouting, though Coomer decided to be merciless today and say “But you barely have any hair to dry, Doctor Bubby.” Dumbfounded you just sat there, stunned, and beckoned Bubby over anyways even though you worried he’d taken that too seriously since he didn’t even try to defend himself-- And well, Doctor Coomer seemed to recognize his mistake and looked a little apologetic.

You dried his head without paying much attention as Doctor Coomer redistributed coats, but your attention was brought back down by a little tug on your sweater. His glasses mostly hid his eyes from the glare at this angle, and he’d been avoiding your gaze though his fistful of shirt was his own wordless way of asking for some reassurance. You crouched down to get a good look at him while Gordon looked over from rubbing Sunkist’s ears and Tommy took his coat from Coomer.

“You okay there, Doctor Bubby?” You asked lowly so as not to bring any attention to the two of you. He scowled as if offended, but dropped the anger to look at you and nod. You weren't fully convinced, but he sniffed the air all the sudden, and his nose twitched as he eyed you curiously. You didn’t get why he did that, but it didn’t matter because it was your turn to take back your coat, and you stood up with a small pat on his hand as a kind way of asking him to let go.

“Alright guys--” You spoke up, one arm in sleeve mid-dressing yourself. “It’s still the weekend. We have the rest of today and tomorrow off, so what do you say we do tonight?” You fixed your sleeve cuff, waiting for the first suggestion.

* * *

Current objective? First, gather snacks, pillows, and blankets. Second? Figure out how to evade Black Mesa security so that the lot of you could set up a sleepover under the stars. There weren’t any mosquitos within miles of the compound, and of all people to agree, Gordon had been on board with the idea.

You were puzzled at his willingness, but effectively outvoted by each one of them. Tommy seemed hesitant to disagree with you just because he felt bad it was one against four, but some small persuasion on their end and he had chosen his side. All the while the whispering amongst each other was getting to be a little annoying, but even Gordon looked a little smug whenever you peeked a glance at him, and them ostracizing you from whatever they were scheming wasn’t doing much to make you more keen on the idea. So? You just weren’t going to help them. For once, you sat back and let the rest of the team do the guiding through the halls as you dragged back sluggishly, arms crossed in unamusement.

<https://youtu.be/OdnTQqB4q4w>

You’d been reduced to avoiding certain floor tiles as you walked as some sort of game, careful not to step on any cracks either. Since you were in the back, none of them had even noticed you lagging behind and stepping weirdly over obstacles that weren’t there. You’d gotten so settled in your position of leader that you’d almost forgotten what it was like to let your mind go and not be focusing on any one thing. If anything, your breathing was comfortably shallow, and the pressure behind your eyes ached from the lack of tension they were used to.

Maybe once, in your old life, you’d been forced to walk behind the rest of your friends just like this. Your mind was so exhausted, however, that you weren’t even sure. You couldn’t even fully register the thought before it flew up into the air and dissipated into nothing.

Gordon couldn’t help but look back at you, but he didn’t know what to think about that distant look of yours as you took small, awkward steps over tiles, skipping some and avoiding others. He snickered a little to himself, and Bubby next to him turned around and snorted, though hid his smirk with a scowl when Gordon tried smiling at him. Gordon didn’t take it too personally, he was used to Bubby’s responses by now. Tommy opened his mouth, tempted to say “Huh?” but Doctor Coomer put an arm around the boy’s shoulder and whispered to him not to be too loud or else you’d catch them watching.

You were pretty spaced out, but a brief patch of blue in the corner of your eye caught your subconscious attention, and for a moment, you thought nothing about the figure walking beside you. Wait, huh?

Your eyes snapped up, looking around confusedly, lost. This only made Bubby cover his mouth with his hand while shaking out silent but intense chuckles, and almost trip over his two feet since he’d stopped watching where he was going and was just side walking. Distracted by the way he hunched his back and staggered a little, you forgot about what had just happened and chalked it up to your imagination since you weren’t really paying attention.

A microwave stolen, guard barrack filled with double bunks raided, and a smashed up vending machine later and you had finally made it back to the entrance of Black Mesa.

You’d never actually been down that hallway. You assumed that the rest of them had homes-- you knew at least the Coolatta family did, because Tommy had referenced it multiple times and had even explained some of his troubled dynamic with his father-- and it turns out he was adopted by the man you knew to be nowhere near a normal human, as if your encounters during your playthrough didn’t speak enough on that. Hey, he also had an immortal dog and paradoxically some really impressive math and science skills, so at this point you could tell Tommy was raised by Mr. Coolatta, you could see it clear as day sometimes.

You know, you do get paid, but because you live in the compound, you don’t ever use your salary for anything more than the occasional bribe or vending machine snack. Turns out having “Doctor” as a credential and some new implanted knowledge of Calculus and Statistics thanks to the simulation (as you’ve dubbed it half-jokingly) translates to a decent amount of money, more than the others were getting paid somehow. [You once compared salaries, turns out “Another day another dollar” was never a joke, they meant it.]

You were surprised when security just let you all walk out, though in real life each looked like different people of multiple ethnicities, and you sort of wondered what Benrey would have looked like in HD. You felt nervous even mentally voicing his name, but there was no harm, right? If you ever did get to see him now, you could only imagine he wouldn’t be too friendly towards you. He seemed frustrated at Gordon the entire time you were playing, but you never knew what he’d think about you if he knew that you were partly responsible for Gordon’s actions even if you never controlled what he said and sometimes you swore he was acting on his own when your controller would glitch and he’d keep responding.

You weasled your way into the front, and made them huddle together behind you as you took a good look at what was up ahead.

Four different heads competing for the best look, one dog left for home because he had work tomorrow, and a door separating you from the outside world later and you pressed the button that would release you into the wild.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forshadowing-- https://youtu.be/ytKvgLuy7ng
> 
> Will there even be anything there?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have been so hellishly busy today that I was afraid I was going to break the grind. Slightly worse than usual chapter today, sorry guys!
> 
> Please motivate me. Somehow, I don't know, just send me mojo. I'm dying with this schedule and writing is the only think I want to do but other things keep getting in the way :(

<https://youtu.be/egVP73hjPF0>

* * *

[Queue in the shy fluttering of piano notes as the door began to open, and then the rising symphony of violins with a bit of subwoofer reverberating in accordance to this grand reveal]

Dust. Orange clay sweltering in the sun. A few dry shrubs hardly alive enough to do more than crinkle parchedly as the air literally obscured from the temperature. It instantly hit you in the face and on the shoulders, bringing an uncomfortable heat on your forehead and bite at the back of your throat from inhaling overcooked dirt dust.

You looked back at them with a grimace, they stood there expectantly as if you were supposed to be excited for miles of literal desert and a road made only from beaten down vehicle tracks that was slightly lighter than the rest of the ground. Immediately you missed the filtered sterile air from inside that smelled vaguely of something rubber and off brand windex. This just tasted like you dropped a marshmallow in an open fire and decided to eat it anyways, crispy pit ashes and all.

“So what’s your big plan now? It’s pretty out in the open, where are we going to camp?”

Mistake. Literal mistake trusting them. Tommy looked at you with glinting eyes, while Doctor Coomer wrapped a very unwarranted arm around your shoulder. “You smell very good, Passport!” Of course you did, didn’t you? There was that little soap bottle suddenly there, and--

A sack slipped over your head, and suddenly the lights went out. “Did you remember to put in the breathing holes?” Asked a slightly worried Gordon, and if you weren’t busy being basically kidnapped you likely would have tried to flip him off for letting this happen.

“Uh... “ tone uncertain, Tommy said “Yeah!” in the midst of you panicking and freaking out trying to claw at them while Coomer pinned your wrists and Bubby did the securing. “Chloroform ready?” Bubby asked, and Gordon piped out a quick “Wait what?” as you shrieked “You are not going to chloroform me!” You tried kicking, but Coomer held onto you pretty tight from behind, damn him and his unexpected betrayals!

“Nononononono-” Gordon waved his hands, trying to take the rag from an innocent Tommy who was just sort of shyly holding it up, but Bubby blocked him from reaching it and Tommy brought it up to your face. “Sorry, Gor- Passport, but some things must happen!” Was the last you heard before your muffled screaming started to sound farther and farther away.

[ThERe’s a WorLd iN yoUr DrEaMS]  
[

* * *

<https://youtu.be/2LMMW2h_x04>

They drugged you!

You sat straight up, arm propping up what felt like a sack of bricks. So far as you could tell, they’d laid a bunch of pillows around you and left you in a fort of blankets fashioned into a large tent-- yet there was no sight of anyone, and just the faint outline of a TV screen left on blue through the curtain to the entrance. You still remembered the whole ordeal, but if this was any way to initiate a sleepover, you weren’t letting them drag you out of Black Mesa ever again.

Except, as you looked again, there was someone leaning against the wall in a blue button up shirt and tie, legs crossed as the light from a nintendo switch flashed up at their face. Uh, maybe Tommy had a brother?

“Morning there.” He said, not even taking a moment to look at you. His voice was pretty clear, and soft-- you couldn’t tell how old he was, but you’d put the ballpark somewhere in the mid twenties to early thirties. “Wanna join my Splatoon team?” You looked at him weirdly. “What?”

“C’mon, I wanna play a game with you. ...Mario kart? No, what am I saying-” You didn’t really understand what was going on here. “Smash bros, of course. ..though is’ up to you.” He said over mashing the ‘a’ button while shrugging. “Uh, I don’t know?”

“...” Despite not really knowing who this strange person was, video game logic compelled you forward.

You scooted over, just next to him so you could watch him playing. A little blue squid kid was running around shooting ink through a gun, and apparently he’d just charged his special because he hit a button and became a giant menacing squid.

“That hardly seems balanced.” You joked, watching it plow through the other squids with ease. Little ghost squids flew up into the air as they made a little defeated noise, not standing a chance against him. “What? Oh, you know you’re a kraken too though, right?” He asked as if that was supposed to mean something to you. “Uh, no? I’m not following..” “You’re a kraken.” He just replied, as if that cleared things up.

When the battle was over, he ended up taking first place in kill count. Just as you were reading the others’ stats, he suddenly hit the power button. You sat there confuzzled as he placed it by his side with a sigh, and looked straight at you. Wow, he-- he had some pretty deep blue eyes, and the whites of his eyes were pretty stark against his black eyelashes. The way the shadows fell on his face made his eyebags look darker than they really were. “C’mere, look. Let me show you.”

He leaned over, pulling back the curtains. You didn’t see anything, just the glimpse of a couch foot and a TV stuck on a blue screen. “Oh, wrong HDMI.” He got up and slid a hand behind the TV to mess with the cords. He must’ve fixed it, because flicked on was a brief image of copper wire zoomed in on, and a video game controller.

“...What am I supposed to be seeing here--” The image flickered to static, and the TV played a low feedback sound as the image reappeared.

You only caught a millisecond of it, but wherever it was had terrified you so severely that you suddenly found yourself being shaken awake by a halting screech. Was that-- was that a dream? Where even were you, what was going on?

<https://youtu.be/nHjaNDGgYEA>

Then you caught sight of Gordon in the front passenger seat, and though your head was on Doctor Coomer’s lap while Tommy rested his arms over your legs, you took a swing at him. “I’m going to kill you for letting them do this!” You screeched, furious with the one person you thought to have logic out of the entire group. Tommy held onto your legs tight so that you didn’t fall, and Coomer tried restraining your arms but PTSD was a thing and you elbowed him with little regard faster than he could reach them. “I can’t believe any of you!” Well, you could, you definitely could see this coming from them-- but it didn’t matter, you were furious!

“Alright, disclaimer, I didn’t know they were going to DRUG you!” Gordon screeched, leaning away from the recliner of his seat. Doctor Coomer was still wincing, to say the least, hurt that you’d purposely caused him harm. Bubby kept his eyes mostly on the road, but took a nervous glance at you through the dashboard mirror having seen the damage done to Gordon and Coomer. “Now Passport, please calm down- we didn’t actually hurt you!” Oh yeah? What about your feeling of security? That felt pretty fucking wounded!

“You’re lucky you’re driving!” You hissed back, pushing out of Doctor Coomer’s arms and sitting upright in the middle. “Well yeah I’m driving it’s my car!” You leaned on Tommy’s shoulder, mad, not completely forgiving of him either, and slumped your weight into the back of the seat curled up while looking through Tommy’s window. Bubby watched your reflection lean on Tommy and crossed his arms. If he weren’t the one driving he’d probably be in Tommy’s spot, so maybe that was his dose of karma for being the getaway driver-- however he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be beat or kicked by you either.

That was odd though, wasn’t it? You hardly ever get violent, but from the moment you woke you were on extreme edge. Bubby fidgeted his thumb nervously against the steering wheel. He’d have to consider bringing up your odd behavior lately with the rest of them, but at the same time he couldn’t trust that they wouldn’t confront you before coming up with an actual plan and risk eliciting possible explosive rage. [Of all kinds of explosions, the potential of yours was the only that somewhat terrified him-- since none of them had really seen you angry. You don’t GET angry.]

But, if anything, you caught your anger dissipating as you watched the passing buildings of storefronts. They came in all sorts of sizes and colors, and even had newspaper racks outside as well as signs and potted plants. It was a small town, you were in a small town just off a paved boulevard who knows how far away from Black Mesa. The most surprising part?

It seemed normal. “...You live here?”

“Hel- Oh, Doctor Bubby does, Gordon and I are the next town over just west of here!” Doctor Coomer who had seemingly forgotten about your attack (perhaps willfully) left out Tommy, not that you were sure you even wanted to know where an immortal dog and galactic businessman father would even choose as a residence. You scanned over Tommy’s lack of a response to anything that was just said, and looked up at his hair. His bangs you’d messed with earlier were slicked back but fighting against the way they were combed, bowing a few tiny strands in the wrong direction all because of your meddling. His father probably taught him to style his hair like that, which was almost a shame because seeing him with messy hair had made him look cute. He matched Sunkist when he was fluffy and let his hair go wild!

Back on the topic of residences, you usually spent your days crashing in break room seventeen (which had basically been taken over by you guys and treated as some sort of mini-apartment with no windows). You never really registered that when they left for the day and came back in the morning, they were actually going home to their own places somewhere.

It was.. nice. The idea that they could just be humans, not something that loaded and despawned based on your relativity to them.

You curled into Tommy just a little tighter. He didn’t seem to mind, he just stayed in place so that you could rest on him. All the while he hadn’t looked away from the window, probably fascinated by all of the sights over the sound of the engine and the slight bumping over the worn asphalt street.

* * *

Being seated in a small diner not even fit for a party of five was an interesting start to your first experience in the open world, not that being hoisted out of the back like a child wasn’t up there, but you hadn’t yet touched the pavement until swatting at Coomer for being a bloody idiot- strong- but a bloody idiot. He feigned indifference, but behind you he and Bubby shared a look while Gordon got the door for you chucking panickedly as you gave him a death stare.

You twirled a butterknife against the tablecloth squished in between Bubby and Tommy while Coomer and Gordon got their own side of a booth because of their bigger statures, and the three of them with the exclusion of Tommy all had varying quandaries of what you might be able to do with it. Tommy was just happy that your free hand was entangled in his, hidden underneath the booth where he slightly kicked his legs awkwardly because of their size.

While waiting for your respective breakfasts of choice, Gordon tried to initiate small talk even though Bubby wasn’t even looking at any of you and was purposely avoiding letting your thighs touch, even if it meant dangling half out the booth. Noticing your distress for a fraction of a second, Tommy squeezed your hand tighter and tapped it gently with his index finger, his eyebrows slanted in innocent worry. You made the mistake of locking eyes, and he turned to you, leaning his head against his other hand, his cheek smushed as he watched you without words.

All of this was happening in front of Gordon, who felt a squeeze in his chest when your eyes fluttered and you gave Tommy a soft but stressed look. You never looked at him like that, you always looked confident in your stare, in your smile, but this-- this was something he hadn’t seen before.

You -never- looked at him like that.

He broke his stare as a plate was set in front of him-- two eggs sunny side up, and a smile shaped of bacon. He looked down at it, and back up at you, then back down at it. With his butterknife he started to cut the whites but accidentally nipped the yolk, and one of the eyes started to deflate though it’s smile was unmoving.

Suddenly his very happy breakfast-for-lunch wasn’t very happy. He sighed, eating it slowly with less enthusiasm than usual.

Tommy’s chicken fingers and fries were set in front of him in a basket wrapped with red and white tiled parchment paper, an empty little paper cup placed aside his salt and ketchup packets for him to pour them into if he chose.

Doctor Coomer ended up getting a souvlaki salad, and went for stuffing some of it in a pocket of pita bread to eat like a sandwich while Bubby went for french toast, diner style, with a side pitcher of maple syrup for him to pour should he choose.

“Sorry hon, it won’t be long now.” The waitress said as you sat there, plateless, watching the rest of them eat. You nodded curtly and retreated into your own, unhanding Tommy’s hand so he could eat.

That was, until you looked over Gordon’s shoulder, and saw a familiar face walking out. Zooming in on him alone you stood up suddenly, eyes locked on him. “Excuse me Bubby, I have to go to the bathroom.” He looked up and winced at your little panicky pacing, scooted out, and then watched as you made a beeline for the door. “Hey-- Where are you going?!” He muffled through a mouthful, making Tommy look up while Gordon and Coomer swung around.

Meanwhile, you were trying your best to catch up with him. “Hey!” You shouted, he was just about five blocks ahead of you, walking at a fast pace. “Hey!!” You called out again, hoping to catch his attention. He then turned the corner, and you sped up to a jog.

You kept going though you lost sight of him, looking around pathetically in the middle of a foreign town about half off your rocker.

And you crumpled. You couldn’t take it anymore, your legs just gave in.

…

“Hey uh, are you okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You okay there bud? You're in the middle of a bustling sidewalk looking all sad and pathetic.
> 
> [FRIEND?]


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty bad, but no worries, I'm working on it! Content will improve, I'll do my best!

<https://youtu.be/bzDIWKp0IqQ>

[BENR3Y B8NREY BENR*Y B%NREY BENR!Y--]

* * *

Not him. It’s not him.

This man before you had a long white scar running down his cheekbone, over lip, and wrapped around his jaw, and something a bit sharper to him than the guy from your dream. Honestly, this was probably just you losing it, the weight of reality finally squishing you into the pavement like a tiny little ant. You didn’t conjure anyone by having a nightmare, not all of this world disobeyed the rules.

All of this-- how was it happening? This wasn’t supposed to happen. This is the simulation, you’re not where you belong.

Could it be a stretch to say you belonged here, a leading figure in a secret research facility to some mentally demented eggheads that were far smarter than they said in their actions? Maybe that’s what fate was, a destiny cloaked in its sketchy bootleg guise so that it could take a poor sucker by surprise. Everyone had their backstory, didn’t they?

The onset of neurotic introversion did little to help you push off the ground, staggering to get a footing for yourself.

This whole time, he was watching your external reactions to having your reality crushed, and all you could do was curse Renee Descartes for the cartesian plane and giving the rest of you idiots a leg up in scientific evolution. There’s that Philosophy BA you earned at Caltech before transferring to the MIT triple major Physics graduate study program coming back to haunt you. At least the simulation says so, though you didn’t exactly know if it generated the diplomas for you to show off or not too. Doctor Passport. You could be surprisingly smart when it wanted you to be.

He’s still there, he’s waiting for you to do something.

Upon seeing your confusion amidst your definitely mild crisis, he offered a few words to kickstart a conversation. “Having a bad day, stranger?” He was extremely patient, whoever he was. Dumb too, not a Mesa scientist, not smart enough to run from the person who literally chased him for a block.

. ...What? Your brain was tired, dissociation had already recked its havoc, but maybe it was nice to experience an actual two way conversation which wasn’t over shrapnel hot pockets and wet towels getting whipped around haphazardly?

“Huh?” That’s not the right word, a word, the first one that came to mind maybe, good job. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m-” What, what are you, idiot?

“I’m so sorry.. I-I’ll um, do… something?” Maybe if you crumpled into yourself enough you just might-- maybe you’d trigger a teleport or something and end up on a stranger’s couch or something to find out that something you did was spiked and it was all one sad and pathetic lonely (accidental) stoner dream. “I’m so sorry for uh-” What were you sorry for again?.. Oh, right, you just stalked this poor man. As in broke out in a full out chase, all right after he just had a pleasant lunch or something, and had the misfortune of looking like the character in some diner-psycho’s chloroform dream. Did chloroform count as recreational?

“It’s okay.” He was probably trying not to laugh, or wince. He hadn’t called the police yet, surprising. You wanted to melt into a puddle and stain the concrete at this point. “I could tell you were having a bad day. Didn’t you come from the diner?” He weakly raised a finger and made a hooking motion to symbolize turning the corner.

“Yes- but no- wait!” You waved your hands around, not meaning to ignore his question but wanting to clear things up. “I thought you were someone… else. That’s why I...” You trailed off.

“Well I’m sorry to disappoint,” He started, attentively averting his eyes to a few passerbys walking past. “-but I can walk you back, if you want.” You paused a few moments, Galileo-ing the time with a couple even heartbeats as you steadied your breath. “I mean,” in real life, this situation would be entirely littered with red flags, but as video game logic goes, “Yeah, okay.” You’ve unlocked a new quest: Learn not to trust enemy NPCs, they are programmed not to have your best interests in mind.

No, not really, he did as he said he would-- brought you back to the diner. The entire way you sort of just had your head dipped in shame-- not that anyone else cared to really pay attention. A lady in a bright pink shirt people-watched over coffee, but for the most part no one was paying either of you any mind.

Surprising. You were dressed in a stark white lab coat anyways, all of you were. You sort of realized at the diner that you stuck out like a sore thumb.

The two of you stopped before the door, just awkwardly looking at each other, not aware of Gordon who’d gone the other way paranoid that you were going to get lost, saw you interacting with some man, and started hoofing it at breakneck speeds from down the street.

“Well, you’re back now.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Guess I should go, else I’m going to be late for work.” His words right now, they were heavenly to you. Normal. He was just some normal guy, what a rare commodity. “Yeah.” You nodded, unaware of the way you were looking at him. “Yeah of course.”

“Aha.” He looked down, as if he slightly wanted to stay and talk. “Alright. I hope your day gets better.” He took a half step to turn around, nodded at you, and then turned to keep walking.

Unlike a video game, the interaction ended there, just like that. No hidden meaning, no surprise sidequest, just a guy offering a few moments of his time to somebody who looked like they needed it.

And Gordon, panicky Gordon, didn’t confront you. He stopped in the middle of his sprint, and tried re-evaluating his options. The guy was gone, he hadn’t done anything to harm you, and the science team? You’d only ever had them to interact with, since the scientists and guards at Black Mesa were inhumanly focused on only their work.

Maybe they really were suffocating you. The burlap sack they put over your head earlier didn’t help his case, or make him feel better. They really did chloroform you just to sneak you into a car and run off with you. Gordon thought it was just going to be one of those ‘We blindfold you and take you to the surprise-- surprise! Ready for your first day out?’ type things--They definitely went way further than they needed to.

...He thought he was doing something nice for you, so it killed him even more how scared you looked, and how betrayed you sounded. What if you didn’t forgive him? He tried stopping them, he just wasn’t fast enough. What if you hated him for it?

And yet, like a videogame, the story moves forward.

* * *

The car ride to Bubby’s had been one full of heavy silence since you decided to be honest with them, you weren’t up for the tourist trappy alien shack where a UFO supposedly crashed, and you weren’t up for playing any games today. The fun was ruined, Doctor Coomer’s spirits had been tossed into a pit at the denial of a one on one game of connect four, it was just an extremely disappointing day to start off, and you knew it was up to you to bring it around, but you just didn’t have the strength in this particular moment.

That was, until you kicked Bubby out of the driver’s seat, swore a string of curses, and hit the gas. You were doing what you did best, and you had a credit card to get you through anything.

Valiantly went on beelining to the city center as their knight in shining armor, you, Passport took the mantle of leader once again, and sat where you belonged, ignoring the ramifications. If you wanted to hold Bubby hostage in his own car while you sped to the one place you knew would cheer you up in any town, you were going to do it, because that’s what you did.

Though you made a quick pit stop, pointed at Coomer, and motioned to the door. “You, with me.” He practically beamed that you chose him while using Bubby’s keys to lock them all in. They were essentially man children, so using the child-lock feature against them wasn’t too far from demographic.

You came out with a giant bottle of vodka, a few hard ciders, and you guessed it-- two six-packs of soda. There was no place like the liquor store, and Doctor Coomer seemed happy to help you carry out the spoils. Thankfully Bubby’s car had a trunk, but just to spite him you tossed a bag of snacks at Gordon’s feet so he’d have even less room to relax than he already did.

They went about munching in the backseat as you strolled around confidently, even though you had no idea where you were going and the gas meter in this car was nonexistent. You were just going to trust that it ran on nuclear power because why wouldn’t Bubby illegally spec out his own car and possibly make it extremely volatile but with the benefit of never having to fill it or charge a battery again? Black Mesa had tons of nuclear waste just lying around anyways, why not put it to good use.

Black Mesa didn’t even take attendance, let alone care who snuck in through the side. You didn’t even have to take the tram to escape, and though chloroformed before you could actually start to map out the building’s outer landmarks, you knew that security was lazy. That, or they just wouldn’t bother you. You didn’t even need a passport after all, you were the passport. Passport, to be exact. You know, you never really thought about it but you could probably get away with a lot of stuff with that little exploit in the new security protocol.

And where were you going? Why, the big orange corporation itself.

<https://youtu.be/DFTxOpmlZkE?t=38>

What? You had a credit card and four deranged idiots. You had nothing better to do with your money, and if that dream meant anything, it was your subconscious telling you that you wanted some video games. You had been fiending for them since your arrival, after all. How could you be the great player “Passport” when you didn’t even have some video games to play?

Videogames were good for work ethic too, take The Legend of Zelda, for example. Premium inspiration, just look at the Sheikah slate! A little unrealistic, but that was the entirety of Black Mesa so why the hell not? As long as you were working on something through the use of the scientific method and writing reports on it, you got your paycheck. Real life lessons taught straight through entertainment, and keeping your mind sharp with interactive puzzles and timed feats of dexterity and cognizance. What’s not to like?

Usually though the team just plagiarizes their reports off of each other like kids would do with homework, it’s as bad as middle school between the lot of you. Too bad you were adults and there was no one to stop you!

So, searching around, you know this city has to have at least one. It’s a town, after all, and no town is complete without the mega Walmart. Sighing, you realize you’re going to need help, and pull over. Getting out of the car, everyone except for Tommy who was playing with his animal crackers watched like hawks as your lips moved and you nodded, talking to some stranger from the street, then smiled and waved goodbye to them.

You make a U-turn, Gordon grips the handle above him like he’s going to die, and Bubby who was pouting in the middle of the backseat suddenly uncrosses his arms and whoops as if you driving his car illegally was extremely fun for him, and suddenly he’s amped up with a really sharp grin, seatbelt buckled only around his waist so he can lean forward through the gaps in the front seat and

In a pure moment of fuck the police, you hit the gas petal. The tires screech and skid, roaring to a fast pace as you make your way towards the highway. Gordon is literally hyperventilating, Bubby’s all for it, cackling through eager abandon, and Tommy innocently sways, his hands in the air pretending the little dinosaur is talking as Coomer rolls down his window to half stick his head out.

And if by any reason the universe decided to personally fuck you over, you would do anything to fight it. This day started off on a wrong start, but you were going to make it better. As the game goes, the player moves onward!

[...Nothing could go wrong!]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wouldn't it be funny if the guy worked at Walmart?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, this chapter's content is a little spotty, but building up for some important plot points so I hope you'll bear with me--

<https://youtu.be/5mwlU71S7TA>

* * *

[We’re packing the cart like we’re college students all over again--]

If there has ever been anything more intense than the race to the automatic doors, you would be shocked. Doctor Coomer in the cart Gordon was pushing, Bubby and Tommy butting heads, and you smack dab in the middle, all with eyes on the finish line.

Objects in motion stay in motion. Inertia had you each in its grasp, all barrelling toward the bullet proof glass that every standard Walmart has. Velocity? Amped up to the max babey.

Through the doors had been the truest example of American freedom, an establishment of pure unrestrained capitalism. Parents, be ready to lose a fortune here. College students? You know where the dry goods are. Walmart was a one stop shop comprised of its own clothing, tech, recreational, outdoor, livingspace, and food departments. Walmart had EVERYTHING you would ever want, theoretically.

Only stipulation? It had to fit in the trunk, and leg space might be compromised. Too bad Bubby didn’t spec up his car to be bigger on the inside, but no matter. You were scheming. You were yet to figure out how to steal xen crystal fragments without Black Mesa finding out you broke company protocol, but if you could do it then it wouldn’t be hard to plant them into little makeshift devices which could essentially be hidden in the ground and turned into real life spawn markers with the use of a theoretical “Sheikah Slate” device, oh how you were scheming.

You weren’t just an instant genius though, the calculations would still take a lot of time and effort, but one could dream. However, would you build a portal network and place a marker at Walmart? Yes, yes you would.

As soon as you were in, each panting (except for Doctor Coomer of course) after nearly smacking into the doors before they could even open for you, everyone made a beeline for their respective desired departments.

You stuck around to take the cart from Gordon, who wanted to stay with you, and offered Doctor Coomer a hand. He took it appreciatively and hopped out of the side, only leaning over to whisper something in your ear. “With no security we can steal whatever we please!” He then darted off, scurrying like a racoon ready to thieve some trash bins. [You did have inventory space, it -could- be a great loophole. If anyone tried checking your pockets that weren’t a part of the science team, they might not find anything, but you were too scared to try.]

You looked up at Gordon, who was subconsciously staring at one of the big security cameras on the ceiling. You leaned over the cart handle, enjoying the sounds of self checkout and the doors opening for shoppers.“Onward then!” You said half-seriously, punching him lightly in the peck-- something that you were to instantly regret, because your fingers rattled in a succession of what sounded like bone snapping cracks.

You couldn’t hold back a laugh this time. He looked horrified at your brittleness, and you were almost expecting to be dragged to the kiddie section where the pink helmets and knee pads two sizes too small were kept where he’d stack them up on top of each other until he was sure nothing could even knock you over ever again.

You pointed to a direction, wanting to get through the clothing department so you could end up in the entertainment and tech section all the way back. You occasionally flipped through the isles of books and DVDs, but right now your mind was set on game browsing.

While walking through the isles of random assorted clothing items first, randomness seemed to also settle in your thoughts, bringing you back to something you hadn’t thought about in a while.

It was no secret you got to know Gordon the quickest, but at first, when he’d found you unconscious in front of the last still assembled xen portal in Black Mesa though deactivated-- he was the kind of quiet and mature man you would have otherwise expected him to be, aside from the comments you got to hear while playing through the game. Outside of a crisis though, he was exactly as you would have thought.

Maybe now he wasn’t, but that was just because you both sort of opened up to each other a little bit. Now wherever you went, you were hardly without him, and you hoped that wasn’t just because he felt the need to be near you for security reasons, but that he too valued the fact that you could both be in the same realm together, coexisting, providing each other company in an otherwise insane asylum carousing around as a science laboratory.

Your train of thought had been thankfully interrupted at the sight of a few decorative indoor pieces. A pear-shaped bottle made of transparent smokey turquoise glass with a long neck and a colorful label caught your attention, alongside the collage glass mirrors made of a few smaller mosaic pieces framed with wire branching out from the main middle mirror.

You were -really- enjoying these distracting decorative ceramic and glass pieces. Some part of you wanted to know what it was like to have a house with big open windows, and soft natural lighting, the kind that you could just find in the middle of a nowhere forest and fall off the grid. You weren’t -that- rich though.

And then suddenly the simulator chimed in with its mental stimulation of the day-- as it did to remind you to not lose the knowledge you had all the sudden acquired from being sucked into it.

Math! Of all things to do, you were itching to do math! Maybe some quick and easy serotonin releasing math, like finding derivatives of complex numbers to be used for division or maybe some distance calculation as a scalar, not even worrying about vectors like acceleration which could be constant in math but in problems of real life the average velocity would have to be calculated- anyways, unimportant, just math. Math! Maybe it was an anxious thing, stemming from the fear that one day you’d just wake up unable to do science anymore, just as you’d woken up suddenly an enlightened genius.

Well. Videogames were mentally stimulating, even if you felt that sometimes you didn’t have time for them, or didn’t even need them now with the entertainment and drama that was four adult men all mentally different from their physical ages. It was a little weird to you that Doctor Bubby said something along the lines of having his body cloned before, so that his mind could be transplanted in it and he could continue on living, but as one of the two members grown in a test tube you were unsurprised Black Mesa would do something like that.

However, you didn’t want to know how old his conscience really was… Maybe the brain was damaged in the transferring process? He was like a twenty year old punk, if you gave him spiked wristbands and a black trench coat he would totally rock out to angsty metal.

Anyways! With the electronics department in sight, you rejoiced in the excitement of watching previews playing on the display monitors, all with crisp graphics that could make anyone depressed about their current socioeconomic standing. Poor. Poor! It was a very real problem for yourself, but not anymore. You were here and you were going to abuse the hell out of any price reduction loopholes you could find.

* * *

Self checkout, a few stolen items on the part of Bubby and Coomer (with some weak scolding on your part), and a few hundred dollars later, the elation of a shopping spree was only just starting to calm down, and Bubby was back in the driver’s seat. You were only feeling a twinge of buyer’s remorse, especially because you’d actually chosen to-- with your own best interests in mind-- skip the consols and buy a PC.

A PC could be used for storing documents, and typing out your reports so you didn’t have to rely on the archaic box computer that you all had to take turns using in the breakroom. On top of that, this universe had to have some sort of online gaming and streaming platform equivalent to steam and youtube if there was Walmart, it was just a given.

In fact, the first thing you did in the back seat was mess with the wifi settings, having paid top dollar for a portable private wifi service that would work within reasonable places such as pedestrian cityspace and the workplace. Knowing Black Mesa, the walls might be too thick for normal wifi connection, but you could easily ask a scientist in the cybersecurity department to hook you in through a cable with perhaps the relinquishment of some privacy. You really had nothing to hide from Black Mesa other than the occasional visit on a game forum during paid hours, but nothing major.

Speaking of game forums, you finally got to make your own accounts for things and subscribe to services. This might just really come in handy, you realized, recreating your email from your world onto here. Aside from the company newsletter that was constantly popping out new headlines highlighting progress in each department across multiple Black Mesa facilities including your own.

On the outside, Black Mesa was a trendy innovative cooperation with representatives selling its brand new products and competing with other top companies around the world, but on the inside it was working alongside the government to produce top secret technology and had effectively set up its own military bases.

Being one of those working on top secret projects, it was pretty mystifying that people actually lived like this, as if some sort of secret society of top officials and brilliant minds from all over the states. Take Doctor Coomer for example; he’d been working on a colloid solution of zen crystal ions which were highly reactive to organic material and had strange effects on it. If that project hadn’t been shut down, he probably would have succeeded in putting the substance into a testing device and literally making smell previews of perfume in fashion catalogs a reality, as well as 4D interactive media complete with the smells of tar after an intense car chase and stiff air complete with the smell of dusty carpets in an office comedy.

That reminded you though that the government was essentially responsible for both Bubby and Coomer’s legal documents, leading them to be in all published papers Doctor Coulton Moore for Coomer and Doctor Bellamy Boazinski “Bubby” for Bubby. Completely out there names, not that you wanted to exactly tell Coomer what his name sounded like in your universe.

Hold on, it says your email address was already taken. You tried hitting ‘sign up’ one more time, but when that didn’t work, you had the last minute idea to try something. Typing in your email and password, you clicked ‘log in’, and squinted your eyes ready to be denied access.

You got a loading screen, and for a second you thought that was a rejection, until opened was your inbox inundated with emails from Nintendo mini directs and old fanfiction websites you used to frequent telling you that someone left Kudos on something stupid you tried writing once. It was a mistake, and embarrassingly cringey, but you never got around to unsubscribing from their mailing service.

Oh-- and hey! An old internet friend sent you a message on Steam! Man, it’s been a while since you played with them. Following the link in the email, it sent you into your old chat, one that hadn’t been responded to in over six months. You didn’t want to go down the rabbit hole of why you quit responding, leaving it to history now that you were in this new world. Instead, you scrolled down to see his messages.

\--Six months ago--  
BubbleBegot_3: hey man, wanna play TF2?  
BubbleBegot_3: bro?

  
\--Five months ago--  
BubbleBegot_3: did you die Lol  
BubbleBegot_3: ..cmon bro i'm worried about you  
BubbleBegot_3: …

\--One week ago---  
BubbleBegot_3: just checking in bro, how are things? did they finally find out you were using their wifi  
BubbleBegot_3: well, whatever it is i’m wishing you the best, friend

You felt a little guilty not responding to him, so you began to type, ignoring the jolt from the car hitting a speed bump.

\--Today at 3:03 PM--  
You: Hey, I’m alive!  
You: You would not believe the crazy shit that I’ve been through- 

You grinned, seeing that he was typing.

\--Today at 3:04 PM--  
BubbleBegot_3: aaa man its so good to hear from you whats up

And so in true videogame fashion, the player reunites with an old friend. However, this heartwarming reunification was to be overshadowed by a great, unforeseen event…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh, I wonder what's going to happen?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, end of the first week! I'm so tired :')
> 
> .  
> .

<https://youtu.be/i3mrcXcyExY>

* * *

As soon as you hit the back roads, there was nothing more than a kicked up cloud of dust and a sunburst sky for miles.

Arid wastelands, tires baking off by infrared radiating off of the light dirt tracks of the desert, the inside of the car was a much more fortunate place to be than the post-apocalyptic hellhole outside.You wouldn’t be able to tell where you were going even if you tried, there was just land and only land for miles and miles, nothing discernable at all.

Bubby hung his new fuzzy dice off the dashboard mirror, delighted to watch them sway every time the car drove over a dip or bump in the road. You would admit, they were quite memorizing.

Switched out for Gordon in the front passenger seat was Tommy, leaving him and Bubby both at your sides while you sat between Tommy’s legs in the front, only you being hyper aware of that fact. The middle seat was needed to lay down a pool noodle and some pipes that stretched from the front of the car to the back. Perhaps it wasn’t the safest way to sit on an uneven road nor on any road in general, but it was either that or lay underneath the stuff across Doctor Coomer and Gordon who were already uncomfortable enough.

Knowing that either way was going to be a little hazardous, you chose comfort over safety with everyone in mind. Poor Gordon’s knees were riding up on the chair in front of him, and you doubted that was anywhere near comfortable, but neither was trying not to turn poor Tommy Coolatta into a pancake, so you supposed he was the lesser sacrifice yet still unfortunate soul of the day.

You still had your computer out, playing the little no-internet dinosaur game with him. Tommy had a good view from over your shoulder, and would on occasion suck in a breath when you just barely avoided an obstacle. Things were getting pretty intense, everything was speeding up, and when you’d finally die, his arm would snake underneath yours to hit the spacebar while you held the computer in place. When he’d die, he’d be a little disappointed, and go back to watching. Most of the car ride was just taking turns like this.

“Jump!” You said frantically, a pterodactyl coming from the right at extremely high speeds. It looked like he wasn’t going to make it, until you whipped your hand over and pressed down on it for him. He, instead of continuing to play the game, had let his dinosaur die anyway, and cautiously, with whatever thoughts he had going through his head, flipped his hand around.

His other pulled your torso into his body just a little as he tiredly rested his head on your shoulder. You didn’t see Gordon behind you watching in the rear view mirror, a look about him. You only felt fingertips brush against yours, before slowly bringing them to lock together.

At some point you’d both fallen asleep holding hands. Bubby noticed and said nothing, reaching a hand over to move the laptop off your lap and put it on the dashboard while closed. In doing so, however, he caught a glimpse of a very amusing expression through the mirror.

“You look like you just ate a lemon.” Gordon’s head picked up, desperately looking for an excuse. “What? No, no I wasn’t doing anything I-” “Don’t lie to me Gordon, you know I’m allergic to bullshit.”

Gordon winced, only imagining the smug look on Bubby’s face .

“Alright Doctor Bubby, I don’t want you to say anything about this.” He pointed his finger at the mirror in defeat, knowing Bubby was watching. “Oh, is it Doctor Bubby now?” Bubby teased, calling out his bribe. Damn, that usually worked. “You’ll have to give up more than that if you want my lips to stay shut.” Oh, of course. Of fucking course, Gordon knew exactly what his game was the moment he finished his sentence.

Furious, but with no other options, Gordon sighed. He was looking forward to just a bag of gummy colas for himself, one he paid for himself while everyone else left the spending to you. “Fine.” He leaned over, snatching the package out of a plastic bag. Bubby held his hand out behind him with a terribly happy grin, and Gordon bitterly gave him his one self indulgence.

Doctor Coomer’s head shot up as well, a bloodhound for soda gummies. Gordon would know, it was impossible to keep a bag no matter where he hid them, because one of them always found it. It was like they had eyes on the backs of their heads.

“Can I get one too, Doctor Bubby?” Said Coomer using the same failed bribe as Gordon, though asking politely instead of demanding like Gordon did when telling Bubby to keep his mouth shut-- likely the reason his attempt failed. Speaking of Gordon, he rushed out “How long have you been awake--?” and Coomer just gave him a delighted smile.

“For one gummy cola, my answer will be ‘since I heard the sweet sound of soda flavored candy packaging being rattled.” As sweet as Coomer could sound, his true intentions weren’t exactly hidden.. Gordon grumbled, reaching out for the bag he’d just handed to Bubby, only to have it ripped away. “No, these are mine now! Go find your own if you want to-” He paused, remembering the conditions of the deal. “Keep your secret…” He ended ominously.

If age didn’t start thinning his hair, him getting ready to yank it all out in frustration certainly would.

This was going to be one long car ride.

* * *

  
<https://youtu.be/JT-sbkEUtUU>

A bad dream you were having had suddenly been interrupted by the door on the driver’s side being slammed shut. Gordon leaned over, bucking the seat belt as he readjusted his foot on the petals, and started off at a slow speed. The beams were on, catching dust particles at odd angles while cold air briefly made its way in, chilling you. You did know of a cheap fleece blanket that Doctor Coomer had snuck out of the store because it had a tacky print and appealed to his tastes, but you couldn’t currently get to it if you were to let Tommy sleep.

Maybe Gordon would though? He didn’t have to reach far, it was just at your feet. So you whispered his name, for the sake of letting everyone get their rest.

You did not need to work hard for it, his attention was instantly given.

“Gordon…” You said again, not wanting to be loud as he sat as still as a statue, silhouette almost passable for inanimate if not for a barely audible noise of uncertainty popping from his throat. He didn’t know exactly what he was supposed to do, you were just calling out to him. Was he supposed to wake you up-- what if you were having a bad dream? Or, on the other end of the spectrum, what if you weren’t? Would you be embarrassed if he did wake you?

You realized he thought you were still asleep.

He rubbed his eyes, taking a moment to pinch his nose. Admittedly, he was flattered that you dreamt of him, but he couldn’t be sure if you’d be okay with him knowing. It really generated more worry than it needed to, but that was Gordon for you.

You, on the other hand, gave up. It was fine, you could rough it out, wait for your chill to go away. You did have Tommy behind you, and he was pretty snug. However, you would have thought you’d already made it to Black Mesa by now. What was taking so long that you were still in the desert after dark?

Yawning, Bubby got himself as comfortable as he could so he could also fall asleep. Gordon, to his knowledge, was going to be the only one awake for a few hours, left alone to his thoughts as he drove in a straight line-- he'd have to be careful not to fall back asleep, regardless how tempting the lull of the engine was to him.

The thought of falling asleep at the wheel generated even more anxiety in him, to the point it wafting off of him had almost been a good enough substitute to the blanket. You really wished he didn’t fidget so much, but he was such an overthinker and there was little you could do about it. If anything you’d be hypocritical, because you sort of were too sometimes.

Even though you had resigned to fate, behind you Tommy had also been awoken by the sound of Bubby and Gordon switching shifts, or maybe he’d already been up beforehand and just didn’t want to wake you.

“Do you think we’re almost to the border Mr. Freemen?” What you didn’t know was that this was his sixth time asking, the first five having nearly driven Bubby mad. Behind you, Bubby quietly snickered to himself, probably thinking ‘Haha, he’s your problem now.’

Gordon was fully aware of that fact, and exhaled from his nose. “No Tommy, again, it’s a car. We can’t all just teleport like your, egh.. Mr. Coolatta.” He grunted, almost ready to hit his head on the horn.

But then you realized one small detail. “Border? Why are we crossing the border?” You groaned, still clutched in Tommy’s grasp. Caught, the two of them went silent for a moment. “Why aren’t we going back to Black Mesa?” You pressed, wanting to know-- not that you exactly knew the way to Black Mesa, but you also knew that Bubby’s town couldn’t have been more than two to three hours away.

If you really had to, you could remind them who was responsible for drugging and essentially kidnapping you, as well as who paid for all the stuff you got from Walmart, at least half of which being completely out of nowhere and just for the sake of being inconvenient. So maybe Gordon bought his own gummies and was with you the entire time at the store, but the bribe still stood for Tommy, and he couldn’t pretend to be sleeping now that you knew he’d been wide awake.

“Well? Uhhhhh,” Gordon drew out the word, blanking on a cover story. Maybe there was no point in keeping the surprise at this point. Tommy, however, in his infinite wisdom, pulled something out of the glove department and placed it over your mouth.

“No- no Tommy!” Gordon panicked, almost swerving off the road. It didn’t matter, it was quick to blur your vision and snuff you out before you could curse a single fuck.

* * *

<https://youtu.be/6A_wulnNNXw>

Air whipping around you from below, the green murky sky dotted with pieces of rock from just beyond distant silhouettes of spikes scattered like a crumb trail, far, far away from the resonance. Hold on, glaring hot light was hitting your skin, and it wasn’t supposed to be.

Xen. You hadn’t been to Xen in many, many years.

HEV suit forsaken, your coat flaps spread out like vast black wings, descending with you in flight like a hawk in a dive. If you were awake, that meant the energy had somehow returned. It meant that the portal had reopened.

That seemed to be the dreadful case. The electromagnetic storm caught in centrifugal orbit around a particularly potent and dangerous xen crystal had been the only source of energy around for lightyears, and it was supposed to be out, you along with it. You in particular were supposed to either be dead or stuck in a catatonic state, along with all light and energy around you.

You were last conscious losing a substantial amount of blood, almost right where you needed to be. As soon as you were sure everyone was to safety, you pulled the trigger prepared to die an honorable death by gamma radiation. However, time must have imploded so quickly it stopped the burst from reaching you by mere moments, so you weren’t vaporized, simply blown out light a candle light.

That was your reward. Black out. A simple, peaceful going.

However, instead of enjoying your eternal non resistance by not being alive, you woke to time slowly repairing itself around you, everything working in lag as you floated more than fell. That was also the crystal’s doing, and you? Your body should have been long decommissioned, something was keeping you alive.

You HUD would have listed all eleven body systems as barely up and running, trying to maintain equilibrium amongst a dangerously low red blood cell count and radioactive contamination. System collapse imminent, it would flash. A soft way to break it to you that you were quickly slipping away, and all it could do would be to inject you with morphine and oxytocin to mitigate the pain and mimic the feeling of being with someone you love, just to make the process easier on the compromised wearer. Panicked and delirious in the cold near-vacuum of space was no way to die, at least Black Mesa promised some comfort in the dealings of inevitable casualties.

If that crystal was back in place, something happened to alter the course of history. That also explained your sudden reset, but it didn’t explain one thing.

How the hell were you not getting ripped to pieces right now, or fried to death? As mentioned earlier, you weren’t wearing an HEV, but the light just simply bounced off your skin like the sun’s radiation would.

The sun. You supposed you hadn’t seen that in a long time either.

Now wasn’t the time to reminisce. This is bad, very bad. -And if you’re still alive, that must mean one thing.

Someone, or something, wants you to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's one major plot point introduced, but I wonder what they're hiding from you? Hmm


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright, longer chapter to make up for my absence. Sorry about that guys. This chapter is a little messy too, forgive me on that one.
> 
> \---OLD---
> 
> I am currently attending my brother's birthday party, so if you are seeing the place holder text, today's chapter will be a little late, yet still published.
> 
> There's going to be some real romance this chapter ;) spicy
> 
> UPDATE: I'm sorry it's not up yet guys I'm having a lot of issues and I'm worried I might fall a little short this week but my brother's party lasted well into the night and I wasn't expecting it to--
> 
> My mother peer pressured me into drinking after his friends couldn't succeed because I'm the only one who doesn't do any substances of any kind, so coffee in one fist and white claw/truly in the other, it was a night. I also got a bunch of second hand from all of the smoke of various kinds so that's fun.
> 
> Edit edit: I'm sorry, I'm having an emergency today I'll try to make up for it with an extra long chapter, but I need some time. Please forgive me!

<https://youtu.be/oREqyKRLBro>

* * *

Silence in suspension, going neither direction yet projecting aimlessly in the confines of expansless space with nothing to touch, no ground nor gravity. Just silence. A sense deprivation pool that could not be stepped out of, had no stop.

It allowed one to see things.

Besides dancing phosphenes which in space had taken to the art of synchronized dance every time one’s eyes had closed to become the stimulus the brain had otherwise been choked of, thoughts started to become abstract. The internal monologue became words written on fine aged parchment in cursive, like a typewriter typing script for the eyes to read, but the contents not be decipherable by the author. It was writing blind, or otherwise might as well have been blindness.

You were losing the cognitive ability to understand yourself without a world to be relative to. Language was ingrained in you and that still held true, but it was quickly losing its prevalence, and in time it would be lost fully. In time. In more time.

Now you were amongst rock, a cluster of particles in space, holding onto each other fervently, afraid to shed, afraid to let go. This was also your mind, in its forsaking of its organic nature to become itself acclimated to its new superposition, living, just unclassifiable as life without the environment relevant nor the functions to be determined so.

Repetitive. These words were repetitive, as they were all your mind had left to ponder. This was not a reward, this was a prison.

If truly a solvable problem, then all you could do would be forget all, and turn this place into the closest attainable paradise, or a living non-existence. You would force yourself to be dormant if time itself had no longer desired its embalmative post. And yet all you had to touch was in itself melding to you, the last source of magnetism around. Your coat had however been too weighted, and had formed behind you somewhat of a comet trail, tugged by the small amount of inertia it could maintain even in nothingness with few to no rules.

You had nothing physically attached to you with enough mass to help you redirect course. Not a pack, not a weapon. Therefore, once again revisiting the possibility of reaching the resonating rift likely receiving its fuel from Earth vibrations or held open by Combine forces, any amount of hope that you could perhaps leave was denied to you.

Besides, you chose your fate. You chose to die in the name of all that you wanted to continue living. You had come to know that it was either a sacrifice for the many or a sacrifice OF the many.

By now, you knew which you chose. It was not a choice you could repeal.

The world was beautiful before, just on its own, but you had at some point come to depend on its presence, and did not realize how it would feel to lose it. Essentially immortal now, your mere seconds may have very well been thousands of years to that planet, and in your current state you couldn’t even feel more than a dull pain.

Your grief had collapsed on itself, lost with your will. It was acceptance that kept it constant, but not unbearable. It was as if self compassion too had frozen, now alienated from all that was ever your narrow line of life, just a pinprick on a collage board of all living and nonliving, even semi-living beings in the universe.

It had come to feel like so long ago that you’d started to forget, and couldn’t even remember the simple things, such as the sound of pedestrians going about their day to be, or the nip of crisp air during a cool autumnal midnight.

You remembered the concepts, but like a face washed away to time, you could only remember that the eyes were blue, not the unique starburst patterns and yellow flecks painted like an artist’s last flower. And slowly, slow enough to not elicit notice, even the remembrance of that principle face and those eyes would fade too.

[...]

[You’re making some cosmic entity out there laugh!]

* * *

<https://youtu.be/V_-G9lE-7eQ?t=389>

With the wikipedia article for chloroform up on your computer, you started to compose your lecture on why they should not be chloroforming you, aside from the obvious of them wanting to preserve their status as living.

Not that it mattered, they’d all been out the door at the first signs of sand and ice cream shanties. You, in your own little act of rebellion, ignored being poked by pool noodles as they’d tried to coax you outside. If there was anything you did not sign up for, it was ocean water. They literally drove six hours well into the night just to arrive at the ocean in the morning. You didn’t think that any gritty boxers or fishy smell was worth that kind of drive.

Huh. Had you always hated oceans this much? Or was this another trait to be contributed to the simulation?

But with the shorts and t-shirt tossed at you, both black and clearly not meant for swimming, dread started to pool in the pit of your stomach (and no, it wasn’t just a side effect of being chloroformed). Just the thought of being surrounded by water on all sides just spiked your anxiety off the charts, and your heart started racing halfway to the finish line- a panic attack.

They didn’t press you anymore when you snapped a firm no in ultimatum, trying your best not to let your eyes betray you, and not wanting to explain any further. Again Bubby and Coomer gave each other looks, worried looks that meant something in secret between only the two of them, and Tommy expressed his disappointment when he gave you these sad eyes and drew out a tiny “Aww..”

Gordon though, Gordon looked the most hurt out of all of them. You hadn’t yelled-at-them yelled at them, but within convenient timing you realized the reason he was so on board with the plan in the first place.

It was his plan, and it just kept on going wrong.

You wanted to tell him to wait, but he just turned around and walked off towards the public lockers without another word. This wasn’t his fault, you reasoned, he didn’t do anything to ruin it, in fact he’d been super sweet and taking care of you all day, and you knew he wasn’t responsible for the science team’s usual shenanigans. But, having his plan fail so horribly, especially when he was always seeking your approval-- going to you first after being ecstatic over a discovery, asking your opinion on the email he’d been drafting-- you realized he felt like he’d utterly let you down, and as Gordon was, he was going to be really hard on himself.

On the contrary, you could have handled it a little better maybe. You were just feeling cornered.

So, while staring at the wikipedia article for chloroform and its adverse effects on a person of normal human genes, your mouse hovered over the search bar. The internet usually knew what to do, but for once you were at a loss of what to search up that would help you explain your behavior, and apologise to him (even though none of them would apologize for leaving you out of the know all day yesterday, not to mention being chloroformed by Tommy twice).

And Gordon wasn’t allowed to know about your frailty. Not the dreams, not the man who you thought was maybe.. Someone else, not the fact that you felt completely fucking out of place in this world, he looked up to you like you were responsible for his life, for being some grand savior, some perfect being. Maybe some part of him knew the fuck up you really were, but before this you were just some poor schmuck looking for some escapism who couldn’t even afford their own internet or buy their own games.

You knew it would hurt you a lot more if you told him the truth-- that you’re not smart, you’re not some Mensa-level scientist, and you don’t belong to be here. Seeing that disappointment in his eyes would be so much worse than just pretending to be that person for him, because he needed that. He needed you to be, they all did.

Well, hey, you knew of at least one person that was aware of the truth, maybe they’d know what to do.

* * *

\--Today at 11:03 AM--

BubbleBegot_3: ur worried he wont like you if he knows you pinch a few pennies ?  
BubbleBegot_3: you said this guys your coworker ? i cant imagine his salarys much better than yours  
BubbleBegot_3: …  
BubbleBegot_3: ur afraid of the bad luck from the last incident coming back ?

...

You: I’m over that! Besides, new state, new job, new me!

BubbleBegot_3: then just be truthful, itll be easier than waiting for him to find out on his own

Easy, there was no way in hell you were doing that. Truthfully, the incident, comprised of multiple misfortunes and wrongdoings concluding with a big final fuck up on the part of karma, was something you’d been able to avoid thinking about now that you were in this world. It was just finally looking like you were going to be able to turn a new leaf, but again, now that you’d been reminded of it, you were hoping it wasn’t a warning sign from whatever cosmic force was out there that it was going to follow you into this world.

Anyways! Terribly cynic, why not think of something else? ..Well, on the topic of looking like things--

You could only imagine what you looked like to Gordon, what it was like going through such a terribly traumatic event with four other deranged idiots, one of them actively trying to impede on your progress the entire time and the rest obliviously following suit. You could barely get through normal day to day things with them, let alone a global alien invasion and an entire Earth army on the behalf of the military who’d rather shoot the scientists than work with them to shut the portal down and cut off the Combine’s access to Earth. You could barely get through a day of responsibilities on a good day before coming to work at Black Mesa-- it really was like you were a different person, and in some ways you were.

As much as pretending things never happened would be easier, BubbleBegot did have a point. Sitting in the car was just going to be a waste of a perfectly good day, so you supposed you could tolerate some sand. Still probably a no on the water, you were going to pass on that one, but you could at least make an effort to not be such a, well, a you.

You were almost always the problem weren’t you?

You left your shoes in the car, automatically wincing at the gritty hot asphalt beneath the pads of your feet while you carried your change of clothes and a towel out to the public lockers. You tossed down a pair of sandals so you could slip them on, and headed off to the public lockers. You got changed, you looked yourself over, you cringed at your body a little bit, and you exited.

In and out, you were as ready as you’d ever be to spend a day in the sweltering hot (presumably southern Calafornian) sun.

The walk to the beach was just through the lockers and over a thin paved path, and your slow walk got just a little faster as you heard them shouting things from the beach, their heads popping out the surface of the water and scattered around like bread crumbs sprinkled for the birds to peck at. It was funny looking.

You made your way to the break in the path, where the sidewalk path was swallowed by a sea of ripples and walked over sand. Your feet made their own imprints as you approached, striding across the stretch of sand to the towel and parasol they’d laid out.

Shoes slipped off and held by two fingers hooked around the straps, you made your way to the edge of the water. Stepping over sharp sticks and jagged rocks, the sand beneath you stuck to the pads of your feet, wet and a darker shade of brown.

For a moment, that was all there was, just you peering over the edge of an endless sea, a receding wave making streaks in the sand from particles and pieces of shells that got pulled in along with it. Then, another wave came along, just splashing your toes and making them clench in the cold as you wiggled them, trying to let the sand that slipped between them be carried off by the second receding wave.

You were more than happy to grab a pail and make base there, sifting through the bits and pieces of whatever washed up from the water, so long as you could avoid any fish corpses strewn along the rims of the water, stranded there.

Seeing you, Bubby shouted something, pushing Gordon’s head under the water and you’re pretty sure they were just trying to slam dunk him before they noticed you. Tommy, Coomer, and Bubby all swam over, leaving Gordon to drown. (Which at this point they probably wouldn’t even care if he did. They could be pretty tough-loving.)

Then, as Gordon made his way to shore, the pit for his body had already been dug, and Tommy coaxed with the words “Come on Mr. Freeman!” that were surely ‘innocent’ in intention.

“No!-” He crossed his hands, stepping away while looking to you for help. “No- wait! Tommy, Bubby-- Et tu, Coomer?!” He screeched, trying to get away as those three chased him down the beach, and you had to say-- he didn’t get very far.

You ended up having a good time, burying Gordon alive. Your pail ended up being useful to dump wet sand over his body and also waterboarding him (which was not your idea but Bubby’s, again, he was ruthless to Gordon) but when they were finally bored of him, they left the two of you on the beach to wash the sand off their skin in the salty ocean while he ended up undigging himself, and spitting out some grits.

“I think there’s sand in my swim trunks…” He grumbled, not knowing how sandy his eyebrows and beard were too. It was funny, because he looked like he was frosted with snow if not for the gritty texture.

“Yeah?” You asked, only a little teasingly. He just deadpanned, and stood up. “Yeah. I think I need a drink after Tommy dug his bony little elbows into my hip.” You left your credit card in the car, but if he was going back to the parking lot where the little shanties were then he could use it if he wished.

You thought a drink meant like a sparkling soda or something, but he came back with a six pack of beers. He sat back down next to you, and had one already opened in his hand. You guessed he didn’t want to take the ones already in the car, but you’d already predicted as much.

“Want one?” After the disaster that had already ensued? You wanted to say yes, but then again you never knew if you’d need to be responsible for the four of them so you declined with a shake of your head, so he retracted the bottle and took a sip of it for himself.

The day went on like that, you sitting quietly on the beach, Gordon downing a whole six pack of heinekens by himself, and the three of them playing water games like marco polo pretty loudly and splashing each other like maniacs.

“We’re all going to need showers.” You mused at some point, smelling fishy ocean water mixed with sweat wafting off of Gordon. He smelled like a walking kelp ball. Good thing that locker room was there.

At some point, everyone had come to agree with you, decided they were pruned enough, and made their way back up to the lockers. They asked if the two of you wanted to come, but Gordon said nothing, he’d been pretty unresponsive.

“I’m going to stay with him for a little bit.” You looked up to Coomer specifically, who nodded. With them gone and your attention back to Gordon, you wanted to comment on the six empty green bottles strewn about lazily next to him, but you’d been thinking for a while now, and your conversation with BubbleBegot unfortunately reminded you what you had to do, regardless of how it was going to end.

You had to tell now, or else you weren’t going to do it ever, and it was better late than never.

“..I’m sorry I was so snippy to you earlier.” You admitted which to him was out of the blue, hands locked around your knees as the waves crashed steadily along shore. He didn’t look at you, didn’t move, didn’t even open his mouth to speak, but you knew he was thoughtfully listening, if not a little delayed from his day of irresponsible drinking. “...I shouldn’t have acted the way I did...you’ve done a lot to bring us out here.” You went on, dipping your head to look at the little sticks scattered in the white sand.

“You know things have been going a little off track, and that none of that is your fault!” You waved your hands, trying to be reassuring though he slightly grimaced, his eyes drooping. “Things don’t always go well for me too, I--” Was how you were starting this off, apparently. You definitely had a lot of fun today, all things aside, but you knew what you were supposed to say and you weren’t saying it.

How were you going to tell him? You could feel yourself chickening out, and Gordon had a sense that you weren’t saying something too, so he said nothing, he let you find your words.

You sat in the peaceful quiet, just left alone with the sounds of seagulls calling out over the water further in, some diving for fish. You wanted to keep watching the orange sky, and those shifting waves, but you couldn’t help but look over to Gordon. You were starting to realize things, scary things, and you didn’t want to be forced to make a choice.

So you did, you did suddenly realize you liked Gordon just an itsy bitsy a little bit, and you cared a lot about what he thought of you.

But you wouldn’t fool yourself-- your happiness here, it wasn’t yours. It wasn’t meant to be for you.

Gordon liked Passport, the player that could accomplish many impossible feats, the near god of a being that had some semblance of control in his universe. Reality was harsh, that person wasn’t real. Instead he got stuck with some deadbeat who leached off of everyone else just to continue it’s sad parasitic existence, arguably they all did.

Hell, you weren’t ready to be an adult either. You haven’t been ready for years, and commitment was terrifying to you. Having to choose one single identity had been terrifying to you, and was maybe why you were such a failure, why you ever ended up playing a bootleg video game to escape from the reality of eviction and freeloading while not even trying to find work off the books let alone on-- when you could have very well been out there working harder, even if you knew there were some stains that couldn’t be scrubbed out of the carpet. You didn’t have to be you anymore, you could live as someone else. You wished that was true here, but who you really were just kept on coming back to haunt you.

He picked up a fistful of sand, letting the grains sift out through the crack of his thumb and palm. He knew you weren’t going to continue, so it became his turn to speak.

“....I know what you’re thinking.” He said barely, just over the sound of everything else happening. He looked at you too, the shoulders of his orange t-shirt flapping in the wind. When you saw the miserable look he had to him, you flinched, not knowing what you should do to help. He laughed at your reaction, and sniffled a little as he pretended his nose wasn’t dripping, that he wasn’t forcing himself not to cry. “Did I at least do some of today right?”

You glared at him.That wasn’t what you were thinking, but you were too stupid to say so. “You did, you big idiot, and you didn’t have to. You’re always being too good for your own good.” You felt guilty, omitting the truth from him once again, and sat like that for a few moments, listening to the laugh squacks of seagulls in the distance once again.

Deflect. Pretend you were never trying to be a good, accountable person. You weren’t then, why would you suddenly be now? Redirect the focus onto him.

“Now you’re going in the back seat, since when do you day drink?--”

He pushed off of his spot, his palm sinking into the sand as he pressed his torso into your knees. “Do you even know how much I want to thank you?” That didn’t make you feel any better about your current predicament.

You wanted to ask for what, a little nervous about the close proximity, but he brought his other up just to cup your kneecap, breathing out wispily from his nose. Panicked, you weren’t sure if this was going to be a hug, just a touch, or something that would possibly be regretted-- and you already felt sick for leading him on as a friend. As he leaned his face forward a little, a budding kind Gordon-y smile on his face, you were internally drowning, your heart tossed into the water from here. Fucked. You were so fucked.

You couldn’t do this. You were a nobody, this was Gordon Freeman, and you were literally the worst person on the planet to be with in any kind of relationship. It was either lose his trust now, or crush his heart later, and you knew which one you had to pick--

Saved by the bell. Oh, thank god. There was a particularly large and jagged wave that had crashed upon the sea wall all the way out, causing something loud to smack against the concrete.

There, all the way out where the seagulls had previously been floating like ducks, was drawn in a blue boat buoy which was not there before which had scared them off while squawking, and you drew from their example. You scurried away, rambling some excuse that not even you caught as you spun around to retreat, missing the devastating moment he realized what he’d done and what you were trying to do with a sharp stabbing pain in his chest.

You, Passport, just rejected Gordon Freeman, and then another loud boom resonated, just past the incline of the path to the beach where the lockers and shanties resided.

Speak of the devil, and it shall come.


End file.
